


5 Times Kallus Doesn't Defect + 1 Time He Does

by HixyStix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: 5 Times, But mostly fluff, M/M, fluff with a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: Kallus could have walked away at any time, but he kept saying no.Until he said yes.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 29
Kudos: 181





	5 Times Kallus Doesn't Defect + 1 Time He Does

**1 Bahryn**

Kallus had always thought heat was worse than cold, but the icy Geonosian moon was quickly changing his opinion.

Heat was oppressive. Cold was insidious. It snuck and slunk and sapped away at a being’s strength and focus and control. It got in under clothes and armor and in shoes and gloves that simply weren’t rated for such temperatures, numbing as it went, leaving Kallus clumsy as well as in pain.

And _cold_. He couldn’t forget the cold. The cold wouldn’t let him forget it; he was shivering uncontrollably as they reached the rock outcropping.

Orrelios looked concerned as he helped Kallus limp into the relative safety of an overhang, out of the cutting winds. Collapsing to a sitting position, Kallus glared at the lasat, daring him to say anything about the shivers Kallus could not stop.

Orrelios was apparently not impressed. “Yer too cold,” he said. “We gotta warm you up.”

“And you’re _not_ cold?” Kallus asked, eying the lasat’s jumpsuit, with its short sleeves and leggings.

“I’m fine. We lasat have thick skin, unlike you humans,” Orrelios argued, tossing down both the meteorite and the transponder. “Hug the thing. Warm up.”

Kallus picked up ‘the thing’, marveling at the way the golden meteorite threw off heat. It was like his fingers had forgotten how to soak up that heat, like it was passing _by_ them instead of going _into_ them, but Kallus held on anyway, grateful for even the semblance of warmth.

Not that he, a proper Imperial, planned to admit that to Orrelios, the Rebel.

“Th– thank you,” he stammered, before he realized what he was saying.

Okay, maybe he _was_ going to admit that to Orrelios after all.

Orrelios grunted and slid down the wall, sitting rather close to Kallus.

Their eyes met and Kallus had to look away, filled with guilt. Guilt he’d felt for years, guilt that had been brought to a head when he discovered the newest group of Rebels he was to track included a lasat.

Guilt he thought he’d quashed mercilessly.

“On Lasan–” he started. “It– it wasn’t supposed to be a massacre. Our orders were to use the T-7s, but we didn’t know what they’d do. By the time we did, it was too late. The Empire wanted to make an example. I know before, I took credit for it, but I didn’t… We had to obey orders or perish ourselves.”

Kallus braced himself for an indignant, “You should have chosen to perish,” but it never came.

“What happened on Lasan, it’s over for me,” said Orrelios, looking away from Kallus, ears noticeably droopy. “I’ve moved on.”

It really didn’t look like Orrelios had moved on, but Kallus knew better than to poke a sleeping beast.

“By the way, it’s Zeb,” Orrelios said. “M’name. It’s Zeb.”

Kallus couldn’t help the way he looked at Orr– _Zeb_. Something in his heart softened at the kind gesture. “Short for Garazeb. I know.” 

Zeb caught his eye again and that time Kallus didn’t look away, despite the slight annoyance in those big green eyes.

Well, he’d started this bizarre new conversation, confessing things perhaps neither of them had ever thought to say out loud – certainly not to each other. It had gone well enough so far, but Kallus wished so desperately to bridge the distance he could feel between them. All it would take was a small gesture on his part. “My name is Alexsandr.”

Zeb grunted again. “Alexsandr, huh? Not Agent?”

Kallus laughed a little, trying not to jostle his leg. “You’d think,” he said, only a little bitterly.

“Right. Well then, _Alexsandr_ , I’m gonna sleep an’ you should too.” Zeb’s ears laid back, looking soft in the harsh, cold air. He held out a disturbingly large hand. “C’mere.”

“What?” Kallus barked, eyes wide, terrified at how close he came to immediately putting his hand in that outstretched one.

“I said, _c’mere_. Don’t want you freezing to death.” Zeb gave him what could have been interpreted as a grin. “You’re my main source o’ heat.”

 _Heat._ Yes, that was the only reason the lasat wanted him close. _Keep me strong during the night and then kill me in the morning when he no longer has any need of me._

_Rightly so, for what I did to his people._

Kallus cast out for a reason to refuse, but even the logical reasons – _someone should stay up to be lookout; what if we’re both asleep when our people come?_ – fell short and came more from wounded pride than practicality.

The short of the matter was that even if Kallus planned to stay awake and keep a lookout, he needed to stay warm.

And the lasat was his best heat source. The meteorite was hot, but it only warmed locally. If the lasat wrapped around Kallus’s back…

They might both make it through the night.

Begrudgingly, Kallus placed his hand in Zeb’s, allowing the lasat to draw him in close, too close. The second the lasat maneuvered to wrap arms and legs around him, Kallus knew it had been a mistake.

It’d been too long since he’d been touched like that. It’d been too long since he’d felt the heat off another living body. It’d been too long since anyone cared whether he lived or died, even if it was only for their own survival.

Kallus swallowed the rush of emotion that threatened to overcome him. He couldn’t show weakness in front of Zeb.

“You okay?” Zeb, his chest rumbling against Kallus’s back with each word.

 _No._ “I’m _fine_ ,” he said instead. “Trying to decide how long I want to stay awake to keep watch.”

Zeb laughed, another low roll of thunder in the cold air. “Kallus, Alexsandr, whatever you wanna be called, take a break. I’ll hear anything before you do, even asleep.”

“And how do I know you won’t kill me come morning?”

Zeb’s soft laughter stopped. “The same way I’m trusting you not to kill _me_ in my sleep. You coulda killed me back there but you didn’t. I coulda killed you when we landed but I didn’t. We both have some honor, I guess.”

Kallus wasn’t sure he’d consider that _honor_ , but he couldn’t deny what the lasat said. He wasn’t going to kill Zeb, not unless the lasat attacked him first.

And he believed it when Zeb said he wasn’t going to kill him, either. It was a _stupid_ move on Kallus’s part, but he was alive and warming enough to take control of his body once more – all because of Zeb.

“‘M sleeping,” Zeb mumbled, resting his chin on Kallus’s shoulder, the sound of his breathing hot and heavy in Kallus’s ear. “Do whatcha want.”

With Zeb’s arm and legs and chin all hooked around him, Kallus was trapped in place, no matter what he’d planned on doing. At this point, he might as well take what rest he could – what _warmth_ – he could and save it for the morning.

 _The morning…_ He wondered what would happen in the morning. Ideally, the Empire would find them both and–

–And prove Zeb right. Kallus deflated a little. The Empire wouldn’t be kind to a lasat with a Rebel history.

On the other hand, what if the Rebels arrived first? Could Kallus go with them?

No, that was ridiculous. The Rebels would throw him in a cell to rot, only pulling him out if they thought he’d provide intel.

And yet he still considered it. Warm purple arms around him, the soothing sound of breath in his hear… Even if he never got to have these arms around him again, even if Zeb would rightfully spurn him, Kallus wanted more. He didn’t want it to end.

But he did. He needed it to end. He couldn’t go be a Rebel. He couldn’t defect for nothing more than a set of entrancing eyes and soft fur. 

_What…?_ He couldn’t defect for _any_ reason. The Empire was harsh, but it was just. It brought peace, it brought security, it brought certainty to counteract the Rebel’s anarchy.

The Empire was _right_ , no matter what thoughts Zeb put in Kallus’s head. And even if – as Kallus suspected – they’d already quit looking for him, it was his duty to stay loyal.

Kallus was nothing if not dutiful.

So when morning came, and the _Ghost_ arrived, Kallus said good-bye with a bow and a significant emphasis on Zeb’s name in lieu of thanks.

He leaned back against the outcropping as Zeb left, ostensibly to hide from the Spectres, but really to keep from watching.

Kallus didn’t need to see the warmth with which Zeb was met. He didn’t need to be reminded that he was going to die in the cold. He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t ~~Zeb~~ the Rebels.

Kallus was loyal to the Empire.

**2 Arkanis**

“You sure Arkanis is where you want to go?” asked Xira, yet again.

Kallus studied the cathar trader for a second. She’d found his transponder signal – and him – dropping from a jump between Molavar and Tatooine to save him, which left him in her debt.

That considerable debt was the reason he was judiciously not mentioning the many obvious modifications to her ship that indicated she was more of a smuggler than a trader.

“Yes, I need to go to Arkanis,” Kallus repeated. “The Empire is expecting me back.”

“I’m just sayin’,” she started, pausing. “I’m just sayin’ you could probably use some medical treatment and Arkanis ain’t exactly known for that.”

“I will be _fine_ , thank you. The Imperial facilities on Arkanis will be more than sufficient for me and, hopefully, not too far out of your way.” Kallus had promised a monetary reward if Xira was willing to wait for him to go to a credit machine and return. He wasn’t sure she was inclined to stick around on a highly-Imperial planet that long, however. In an attempt to cause the least amount of trouble possible, he’d picked the closest planet with an Imperial base.

Xira shrugged and instructed her astromech to enter Arkanis’s coordinates in the navicomp. “We’ve got five hours,” she said. “You want to sleep or use the sonic, you can.”

Kallus took her up on the offer of a sonic, relishing the warm air that blasted out alongside the sonic waves, feeling slowly returning to his extremities as he stood there. Wiping away sweat and dirt that had frozen uncomfortably to him, he began to feel human again. Even his bo-rifle splint was getting cleansed; he saw watery blaster oil run down to the drain as well as the grime from his own body.

It occurred to him that he’d need to oil the rifle again, if he wanted to keep the bo-rifle ready to be used in combat again.

But who would Kallus fight with it? Mostly he used the blaster function – as least until he started clashing with Garazeb Orrelios.

Zeb had promised that they’d continue their fight once Kallus healed. But that had been right after they’d crashed, before they’d saved each other’s lives. 

What would happen if – no, _when_ – they met again? Would they fight again? Would he stand aside and let Zeb’s Rebel cell by just so Kallus didn’t have to try and kill Zeb again?

Kallus tried to ignore the insistent voice in his mind, answering that question: _Yes. Yes, I will. I can’t kill him now, not after last night. Not after meeting and knowing him as Zeb, not just Orrelios, the dangerous Rebel._

“No,” he said out loud, banging a fist against the sonic’s wall. _I **cannot** do that. I **must** do my job. I **must** kill him if I get the chance otherwise I’m no better than the chaotic Rebels._

The thought made him sick to his stomach. It was a twisted thought, wrong on many levels. 

It shouldn’t have been wrong. It should have been ingrained in him, with no hesitation in his answer. He shouldn’t have questioned it for a moment. He _definitely_ shouldn’t have second-guessed himself.

For a moment, a fleeting moment, Kallus thought about asking Xira to stop, to take him to Tatooine instead. He knew enough about informants to get in touch with the Rebellion from there. He could offer what he knew and plead mercy.

Zeb had said they would treat him fairly.

Kallus pressed his temples with tight fists, trying to make the treasonous thoughts go away. He was _better_ than that, Force be damned. He was ISB-021. He was a shining example of what the Empire could do for people – he’d come from being a Coruscanti street rat to an honored agent of the ISB. He owed the Empire _everything._ He couldn’t question anything. It wasn’t his job to do so.

Kallus was a loyal son of the Empire, wasn’t he?

**3 Garel**

A company of stormtroopers at his heels, Kallus ran through the streets of Garel City, chasing… something. The signal might have been nothing. It might have been the Spectres. It might have been other Rebels.

The only regret Kallus allowed himself was that stormtrooper armor was loud and clanky, as opposed to his more streamlined outfit. If he didn’t need the backup, he’d have gone in alone and caught the Rebels by surprise.

Maybe he would be able to do both.

Kallus pulled up short, the troopers stopping behind him. “Commander,” he said, looking at the company’s leader. “Your men are louder than a herd of banthas. Stay here until I signal you.”

The commander nodded and gestured for the company to move to the side of the road.

Mentally castigating himself the entire time, Kallus took off again, at full speed, much quieter than he had been with his escort. 

Kallus was nimble again; the crack in his femur had healed well and he had little residual pain. He had his bo-rifle and his armor and his wits.

Smiling, Kallus knew he could face anything like this.

Well, anything except turning a corner and running full-speed into Garazeb Orrelios.

The lasat yelped as he was knocked to the ground by the cannonball that was Kallus. When he registered who it was, his green eyes softened, though. “Kal!”

_Zeb! I need to get him out of here!_

Kallus snarled, as much at his inner thoughts as at Zeb himself – or the nickname Zeb used. “Garazeb Orrelios, you are _not_ here stealing weaponry.”

“I’m not here stealing weaponry,” Zeb repeated. “I’m here stealing food _and_ weaponry.”

Groaning, Kallus stood up. He held a hand out to help the lasat to his feet as well. “Zeb, why can’t you do this in _some other sector_?”

Zeb, the bastard, actually winked. “If I told ya, I’d have to kill ya.” He glanced behind Kallus. “Uh, where’s your backup?”

Kallus rubbed his forehead, exasperated. “Waiting on my signal.”

“Oh. Good.” Zeb hesitated a moment and then grabbed Kallus’s arm.

Sputtering in protest, but not actually fighting back, Kallus let himself be dragged into an alleyway, out of view of most of the street.

“What are you _doing_?” Kallus asked, pulling his helmet off so he could see Zeb better.

“Nice to see ya too, Kal.”

“ _Zeb_ ,” Kallus said warningly. “I _can’t be_ seeing you. I would have to bring you in, if not execute you outright.”

“So we talk a little, we fight a little, I kick your ass, then we split up again.” Zeb spoke as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “No one has to know.”

“ _I_ will know.”

“How many people didja tell about that moon, Kal? How many know that I was there?” Zeb asked.

Kallus scowled. “How many of _your_ people know I was there?”

“Ah.” Zeb scratched the back of his head. “You got me there. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Because we _can’t_.” Kallus shook his head. “Zeb, they will kill us both if they find out that I didn’t force you to come with me. Same goes for your Rebellion.”

Zeb frowned. “So they did come for you, then.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Kallus asked, waving his hands to indicate his presence. “So obviously someone came to my rescue.”

“Right. _Someone_. Who?”

“It’s none of your business, lasat,” Kallus growled, redirecting his anger and frustration with the Empire onto Zeb.

Zeb took a step back, but laughed. “We’re back to that, are we? _Alexsandr_?”

Sighing, Kallus shook his head. “We aren’t ever going back there, I don’t think.” Head down, he glared at Zeb through his eyelashes. “But I may still have to kill you.”

Zeb did not look intimidated. “You wouldn’t.”

Kallus moved suddenly, grabbing his bo-rifle and igniting the ends. “Wouldn’t I?”

“No,” Zeb said assuredly. He reached out and grabbed onto Kallus’s bo-rifle, forcing him to lower it.

Kallus could have fought harder, but for some reason he didn’t: he let the lasat take control of the situation.

He let the lasat disarm him.

He let the lasat lean in close, one hand tilting his chin up.

He let the lasat kiss him, lightly at first, but desperately soon thereafter.

Kallus pressed into the kiss, hungry for attention and affection and everything Zeb was willing to give him. Everything Zeb was promising with his kiss.

With a shove, Zeb pushed Kallus back against the wall and leaned down again. This time, he held Kallus’s chin still and rubbed their cheeks together.

“What are you doing?” Kallus asked, curious but not complaining. It felt… nice. Familiar, in a way.

“Scenting you. You humans can’t smell it, but anyone with a decent nose’ll know I was here.”

“You’re– you’re marking me?” Kallus closed his eyes, half in enjoyment, half in exasperation. “Don’t you know what could happen if someone ‘with a decent nose’ smells you on me?”

Zeb leaned back a little. “Anyone with a decent nose would be an alien and probably not loyal to the Empire. You’re safe, Kal.”

Kallus reached up and grabbed the collar of Zeb’s outfit, pulling him back in for another kiss.

 _“Spectre 4, where are you? We’re loaded and ready to go!”_ squawked the comm clipped to Zeb’s waist.

Zeb groaned into Kallus’s mouth, which just made Kallus hang on all the tighter. Zeb pulled away, though, pupils blown wide and breathing ragged.

Just like Kallus’s.

Zeb grabbed his comm. “On my way, Spectre 1.” He looked at Kallus sheepishly. “Guess I gotta go.”

“You wouldn’t mind telling me where you’re docked, would you?” Kallus asked wryly, still reeling from the kisses.

Zeb laughed, tension leaving his voice. “Good one, Kal.”

He reached out and grabbed Kallus by the cuirass and yanked him forward into one, last kiss.

Kallus reached out for him, but by the time he grasped at where Zeb had been, the lasat was gone, running out of the alley at an impressive speed.

His bo-rifle lay on the ground next to him, so Kallus knelt to pick it up, knocking dust off its ends. 

_I just kissed a Rebel_ , he realized. _I kissed a **lasat** Rebel._

Kallus shuddered, mind involuntarily jumping between Zeb and the mercenary from Saw’s Rebel group, but he knew Zeb was nothing like that mercenary.

Zeb had morals, for one thing.

_Then what’s he doing with me?_

Still kneeling, Kallus put his helmet back on, reattached the bo-rifle to the holster on his back, and traced his fingers through the red dirt.

By all rights, he ought to have been chasing Zeb down. He _ought_ to have called in the stormtroopers as soon as he ran into Zeb. 

It’s what any ISB agent would have done.

It would have been the right thing to do.

But he hadn’t.

Kallus’s loyalty had been tested – and he’d failed. What did that make him now?

**4 Lothal**

Walking through the remains of what used to be Lothal Re-Settlement Camp Forty-Five, Kallus had to stop and lean against a crumbling wall.

He’d led many such incursions, quashing the spark of rebellion in similar camps, over the past few months. Each time, they destroyed the homes, the crops, the food supplies, killed anyone who dared resist, and left the rest to fend for themselves.

On Bahryn, Zeb had told him to chase down answers. Kallus had taken it a step further and started asking questions.

Questions like, ‘is destroying people’s livelihoods really an efficient way to ensure loyalty?’.

Kallus no longer agreed with the Empire’s answer.

How could he, when he finally _looked_ and saw the devastation he was causing? The terror and loss and utter chaos that his troops sowed among the populace?

Zeb would’ve been horrified if he could’ve seen Kallus there in the midst of the rubble.

There wasn’t anything Kallus could do, however. It was too late. The damage was done. If he’d dared to speak out, he’d have been as dead as the settlers. Surely it was better to stay alive than to die in a futile gesture.

Surely even Zeb would see that.

Kallus quashed the nausea that roiled in his stomach and pushed off the wall. He had a part to play if he wanted to survive the day.

He _would_ survive. He would survive and he would make sure the Empire never took out an entire town again – especially not a re-settlement town created because the Empire took the inhabitants’ land in the first place.

Kallus _changed_ as he walked through the ashes of Re-Settlement Camp Forty-Five. Something new arose deep inside him, something strong and angry and determined.

The Empire was not just. It was cruel; he saw that now. Cruelty was not the price of peace, surely. Forced loyalty was no loyalty at all.

Kallus didn’t want to be loyal anymore. Not to a government like that.

**5 Iego**

The diathim – the _angels_ , as spacers called them – were indeed beautifully ethereal. Kallus couldn’t look away from the floating being in front of him, serving him drinks. He also couldn’t quite tell what gender it was, if it even _had_ a gender; all he really registered was a sense of awe.

That sense was precisely why he’d come to Iego for his week of leave. He’d had the crazy idea that surrounding himself with the galaxy’s most beautiful beings would drive Zeb from his brain.

So far, he was on his second bar for the night and it hadn’t worked yet.

He was there for multiple reasons, however. Forgetting Zeb was the reason he’d picked Iego, but he was also there to meet a Rebel contact. A Rebel contact that would get him set up to be a spy was supposed to find him during the week.

Kallus’s fist tightened around his glass and he downed the rest of his whiskey. His contact wasn’t supposed to show up for a couple of days, so all he wanted tonight was to find the right combination of alcohol to let him find the right companion for the night – someone to drive Zeb from his mind.

Someone to make him feel like he wasn’t _cheating_ on Zeb already in his thoughts.

They weren’t anything to each other. They’d shared a night of fright and survival and then they’d kissed. Heat of the moment, if anything. There was nothing _to_ betray.

The diathim floated by for a third time, ignoring Kallus’s empty glass.

Kallus could take a hint. He tossed some credits on the bar and left. He was barely tipsy, so he sought out another drinking hole rather than heading to his planetside quarters.

The next cantina down seemed to cater to aliens; a massive chevin was behind the bar and most of the patrons were of the furry or insectoid variety.

Kallus found an empty stool and leaned against the bar. When the chevin came his way, he ordered another Corellian whiskey, neat this time. The drink was served quickly and with a generous pour.

Kallus thought he could come to like the place, if that was typical service.

Nursing his whiskey, Kallus almost jumped out of his skin when he heard his name, or rather the nickname a certain someone had coined for him.

“Kal?”

He spun around and there, of all beings, stood Zeb, who didn’t seem nearly as surprised as Kallus was.

“Z– Zeb?” Kallus stuttered. He didn’t think he’d been drinking enough to hallucinate, but the idea that out of all the cantinas on all the planets in the galaxy, Zeb just happened to walk into the one that Kallus was in…

Well, that was silly. Obviously, Zeb knew he was here.

But why?

“Been looking for you,” Zeb said, sidling up to the bar next to Kallus.

Kallus frowned. “I’m on leave. You shouldn’t know where I am.”

“Well, I didn’t until someone at the docks warned us that ISB was here.” Zeb motioned for the bartender and ordered some drink that Kallus was unfamiliar with. It came out bright orange, almost glowing.

“If I were on duty, I’d have to question everyone at the docks now,” Kallus grumbled. “You Rebels keep making my job harder and harder.”

Zeb grinned and Kallus melted a little. “Well, that’s kinda _our_ job, isn’t it?”

“So you knew I was here. Why come looking for me? Won’t your crew notice you missing?”

“See, that’s the part where I’m more clever than you think,” Zeb said, sipping his drink. “I’m officially out here to distract you while they get the work done. I didn’t specify _how_ I was going to distract you.”

Kallus’s stomach flipped. “And so we’re just going to stand here and chat while your friends steal supplies from the Empire?”

Zeb looked Kallus straight in the eyes. “We can do that. Or you can take me back to your place.”

Kallus managed not to choke on his whiskey or lose eye contact with Zeb. “They might be watching me.”

“You’re already in a xeno bar on a planet that sees very few humans. Bet they already think you’re here to take someone like me home.”

Zeb’s reasoning was solid. If the Empire thought his vice was a little xeno action now and again, then they’d think they’d have something to hold over him if necessary.

Just as long as they didn’t realize _Zeb_ was his specific vice.

“An’ anyway, if you can’t lose a tail, then the ISB didn’t train you very well.”

 _Oh._ It was a personal challenge, then. “I believe I can drop any surveillance put after me,” Kallus said haughtily.

Zeb snorted. “Sure thing, Kal. Just like you lost me. Just like you lost the dock worker who knew you were on this street.”

Kallus frowned, irritated. Zeb was right and he didn’t like the implications. If he couldn’t go unnoticed by the Rebels, could he really spy against the Empire unnoticed?

Then again, the Empire wouldn’t see him coming.

_I’d like Zeb to see me coming._

Kallus blinked. He hadn’t meant to think that.

But he couldn’t argue against it.

“Let’s go,” he said, resigned to the fact that he was helpless where Zeb was concerned. Kallus dug in his pocket for more credits, but Zeb beat him to it.

Zeb also grabbed his hand and led him out of the bar and unerringly towards Kallus’s hotel.

“You know more than you should,” Kallus said, worried.

“When it comes to you?” Zeb said. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn enough. But I’m tryin’.”

Kallus flushed. When they reached the hotel, he took lead and showed Zeb to his room; just a small double bed with a street view.

“Sorry it’s small,” he said, barely getting the words out before Zeb shoved him back on the bed.

“Just makes it a challenge,” Zeb said, between hurried kisses. “Gotta fuck you without falling off the bed.”

Kallus groaned in anticipation. Zeb responded by ripping – actually _ripping_ , with claws – off Kallus’s shirt.

“Fuck me. Fuck me as hard as you can,” Kallus agreed. “If I can’t walk tomorrow, I won’t know when you leave and I can’t be held liable for whatever your friends are stealing.”

Zeb grinned. “I think I can manage that. You sure you’re ready?”

Kallus nodded, craning his neck to keep kissing Zeb. He’d never been so ready for anything in his life. He’d never been so ready for any _one_ in his life.

Zeb lived up to his promise. Before the night was out, Kallus had come screaming twice, once completely untouched. If he hadn’t been so thoroughly wrecked, he might have resented the way Zeb preened at that, but as it stood, he could only keen at the lasat’s gentle touch as they lay together after the fact.

“Alexsandr?” Zeb asked.

Kallus turned to look at Zeb, aware that he must have something serious to say to use Kallus’s given name. “What is it?” he replied softly, fingers tangled in Zeb’s beard.

“Come with me.”

The question made Kallus freeze. “Come with you?”

“You’re on leave. All you have to do is disappear. Don’t go back to the Empire.” The note of pleading in Zeb’s voice made Kallus’s heart clench.

“I can’t leave now,” he said regretfully. “I still have things to do.”

Zeb shook his head, trailing short-furred fingers along Kallus’s jaw. “Like what? Capturing us? You’re doing a fine job there.”

“Zeb, if I’d wanted to capture you, all I’d have to do is click my comm and stormtroopers would flood this place.”

“Nah,” Zeb said. “You know a much better way to capture me now. All you have to do is show me your bed.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” Kallus said, trying not to beg. “Things can’t change yet, so let’s just enjoy what we have while we have it.”

Zeb looked wounded. “You’ll sleep with me but you won’t stop hunting my friends.”

“That’s not how it is!” Kallus protested. “I– I just can’t tell you yet.”

With a light hand, Zeb turned Kallus’s face to him, so that they were looking each other in the eye.

“Will you tell me someday?”

Kallus nodded.

“Will I understand?”

“Yes,” Kallus whispered.

Zeb swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment, obviously thinking. “Will I regret trusting you here?”

“No,” Kallus promised. “No, Zeb, you won’t. I promise on– on that meteorite from Bahryn. I still have it. It’s still warm.” He nuzzled against Zeb’s chin, trying to reassure him that way.

Sighing, Zeb pulled him tighter. “Alexsandr Kallus, the things I do for you.”

“Garazeb Orrelios, the things I _will_ do for you.”

Zeb laughed a little. “I’m holding you to this, Kal. Next time I see you, I wanna take you with me. I wanna get you out of this.”

“Next time I see you,” Kallus swore, “I’ll follow you anywhere. You just have to ask.”

Kallus’s loyalty was long gone, lost in the tangle of limbs, purple against pale, and the feel of Zeb’s lips on his.

**+1 Fulcrum**

A man Kallus recognized from Imperial wanted posters helped him out of the escape pod. “General Dodonna,” he said, breathing heavily through the pain.

The general looked at him kindly. “Come on, son. They’re waiting for you in the cockpit. We’re about to hit hyperspace.”

Kallus limped behind him, his knee screaming where Thrawn had kicked it – and where the death troopers had aggravated the injury with well-placed blows.

The _Ghost_ entered hyperspace a second after Kallus entered the cockpit. As soon as he was assured that the bright lines signaling their getaway were real, his eyes sought out Zeb in the dark room.

Zeb was already staring at him.

Kallus nodded, the motion making his head swim. He faltered where he stood.

Dodonna caught him. “You need a medic?”

“No,” Kallus insisted, aware he was slurring a little. “I’ll be fine.”

“Kriff that,” Zeb muttered, standing. He had to hunch not to hit the ceiling, Kallus noted woozily.

Letting himself be guided back into the hallway with all the Rebels who’d abandoned the _Phoenix Nest_ before its destruction, Kallus tried to shy away from their gaze. 

_If I’d been stealthier. If I’d been quicker to get the message out. If only I had been **better** , they wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t have lost their commander._

Kallus’s heart ached every time he thought of that carrier hitting Konstantine’s Interceptor. Sato had been a good man, he knew, a man of principle and character. And he was gone because _Kallus screwed up_.

“Hey,” said Zeb, cutting through Kallus’s self-castigation. “ _Ghost_ to Kal. You with me, bud?”

Kallus blinked and looked at Zeb. “‘M here.”

“Will you let me get a medic for you?”

“No.” Kallus shook his head. “Your people… first.”

Zeb sighed. “That’s what I thought. Into the bunk with you.”

He herded Kallus into a cabin that was obviously his – the smell was certainly unique – but also… Bridger’s? The helmet collection lining the wall suggested as much.

“Sit,” Zeb instructed. “And watch that leg.”

Kallus did as he was instructed, sitting carefully so as not to exacerbate any of his injuries.

Zeb tugged at his torn ISB shirt, looking at Kallus’s neck. He frowned, an almost angry look in his eyes. “They used a droid on you.”

“Yes,” Kallus said quietly. “I didn’t– I didn’t tell them anything. I didn’t know where you were _to_ tell them, but Thrawn got that from my transmission anyway. But I didn’t… didn’t break. You have to know I didn’t break.”

Zeb held Kallus’s face in his hands. “I never thought you would. You’re a tough piece of bantha shit.”

Kallus closed his eyes, head still swimming, and let go of the tension filling him. He was on the _Ghost_. They were in hyperspace. He was in Zeb’s hands once again. He’d kept his promise.

“Kal,” Zeb said quietly. “I’m gonna ask something big of you.”

Opening his eyes, Kallus looked at Zeb quizzically.

“I’m gonna ask you to let me take care of ya.”

Tears welled up in Kallus’s eyes and he nodded. More than anything at that moment, he wanted Zeb to take care of him, to make all the bad go away.

They’d fight again tomorrow, but just for tonight, maybe…

Kallus couldn’t bring himself to be loyal to a cause anymore, not after he’d been tricked into betraying his own morals for so long, but a man? He could be loyal to a man. 

Kallus belonged to Zeb now, and with that came a loyalty fiercer than anything Kallus had experienced before.

It wasn’t just loyalty, he realized.

It was love.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr and flail over Rebels and Kalluzeb! [hixystix](https://hixystix.tumblr.com/) is my main blog, and [x-wing-junkie](https://x-wing-junkie.tumblr.com/) is my _Star Wars_ blog. New friends always welcome!


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